


Oliver the Cardinal

by Vixx2pointOh



Series: Oliver The ... [9]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 15th Century, Alternate Universe, Cherry Pop, F/M, First Time, Making Love, One Shot, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Priest Kink, Priest Oliver is Soft, Secret Relationship, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 22:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16334099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixx2pointOh/pseuds/Vixx2pointOh
Summary: “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”Her words taunted him, a man of the cloth, sworn to an oath that had been forced upon him.  But his heart sat elsewhere... with her.





	Oliver the Cardinal

**Author's Note:**

> So.... Yeah.
> 
> I'm hopeful this isn't offensive but if you got past the fairly obvious title and you're still here, I'm going to assume you're okay with it ;)

 

**- <1456>-**

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

Oliver felt her words bleed through the lattice window between them. Her face was shrouded in a black veil but he could see the ruby red colour of her lips from beneath it. He willed himself to sit back against the unpliable wooden bench to hope the brutal uprightness of the back would jolt him with the pain he deserved for what he was thinking at that moment.

Her aroma of fresh lavender and a hint of rose filled his nostrils and sent a shiver down his spine; one that settled to a throb between his legs.

He swallowed stiffly, clenching his jaw, enraged at his own shortcomings; his lascivious thoughts.

He listened to her breathing in the silence that enveloped them and he knew she was waiting for his acceptance to continue, but he couldn’t speak for fear the quiver in his voice would give him away. He watched his hand tremble on his knee and his red garments spilled down onto the floor. The collar around his neck felt like a garrotte to his throat, constricting each strained breath he took.

He heard the rustle of her dress and he imagined the tactile fabric brushing against her bare legs; _did she enjoy the friction, or did she bathe at night, gently soaking the grazes such a garment might cause?_

Her faint mewl tugged Oliver back to reality and he noted her hand reaching for the confessional door.

“When was your last confession my child?” he asked softly, thankful his voice remained levelled.  
“Four days ago Father,” she answered him discreetly with her slender, gloved hands resting, palm down, on the skirt of her ornate dress.  
“Mortal or venial?”  
“I am not sure, perhaps you could tell me.”  
Her eyes rose up from her lap and even in the dim lighting and the wall between them, he saw their brilliant blue hue and the sight of them caught his breath in the back of his throat. “I’ve been having improper thoughts about a man,” she whispered, her voice trembled and rasped.

He felt his every muscle constrict and his breath become laboured. “Are you with this man?”  
Her response was so faint that he almost missed it. “No, he is not mine.”  
“What type of thoughts? Do you mean this man harm?”  
“No,” a pause where her tongue peaked out between her lips. “Quite the opposite. My thoughts are _impure,_ of wanting.”  
She looked up and caught his eyes focused on her; the intensity of them making her spine shiver.  
“How impure?” he asked before he had a chance to stop himself.  
“I imagine his hands in mine,” she explained, touching her gloved fingertips together and sweeping them over each other. “I know his palms are smooth but the pads of his fingers are rough and I imagine soothing them with my lips. Kissing each one delicately, no heavier than a feather brushing against his skin.”  
Each word she spoke was like a siren’s song to his ears and Oliver found himself inching closer until his shoulder was pressed into the wall that kept them apart.  
“For this, penance in prayer will suffice,” he instructed while his knuckles turned white in a fist.

A few moments of silence felt like torture to him as he listened to her breathing; every third breath a little longer than the two that preceded it. “And what of my other thoughts?”  
His cock throbbed with little care for decorum. “There are more?” he rasped, his words strained and quite nearly moaned.  
“Many,” she admitted and he noticed her lips turn up into a smile, albeit a fleeting one. “This very day I imagined myself naked to his gaze, wanting to know if the sight of my body excited him and how that might look,” she disclosed, absently touching a finger to her neck, making Oliver wonder whether she grew hot there, just as his did. “I wondered what those chaffed finger tips might feel like as they brushed down my chest, following the curves of my breasts.”

Her breathing pressed her breasts against the tight confines of her bodice and his nails embedded themselves into his thighs to stop himself from sighing at the enchanting heave of her chest.  
“I shivered at his touch and yet I was not cold.” Her fingertips drizzled down her chests and ran over the edge of her black and gold brocade dress.  
“Were you afraid?”  
“No, not of him. For he is gentle and kind, and yet…” she paused and her lips formed an _O_ to push out a sigh.  
“And yet?”  
“I see a sort of fire burning in his eyes when I am close enough to study them and I find myself wondering if they burn for me, as my body burns for him.” Her last words were husky as her body quivered.  
_Was she struggling with such thoughts now? Was she fighting her body’s inclination to seek pleasure; just as he was?_

“Do you want for this man?” he asked, his voice rough and guttural, a sense of carnality in his tone.  
“Yes, so much so that my heart aches,” she pressed her hand to her heart, cupping her breast. “But I fear my body aches more.”  
“And do you know how he feels?”  
“He has told me of his affection, but lamented that he could not be mine,” she spoke sadly as her chin dropped to her chest. He watched her hand move out a little towards him before she retreated it and buried it in her lap. His own hand unfurled and he pressed his palm against the polished wood, hiding it behind shadows, out of sight.

“I have kept myself as I ought in my body, but in my mind I am his completely,” she whispered, glancing her eyes towards his. “I have dipped my finger in wax this last night, hoping it would become like another’s touch, like his, as it roamed my body.”  
“And did it?”  
His hand throbbed as he pressed it harder into the wall, desperate to touch her.  
“Yes, I took _pleasure_ in the feeling of it as I lay on my bed, exposed to the night.” She touched her fingers to her lip, “I for a certainty made my lip bleed as I bit down on it, afraid my voice would carry. What sin is this?”  
“Lust,” he breathed. A sin he also carried.  
“And for that, shall I flagellate twice nightly with knotted cord?”

Oliver clenched his jaw, he couldn’t bear the thought of her milky white skin broken and bruised.  
“No,” he answered brusquely. “To mar the beauty God has given you would be to compound your sin.”  
“I’m afraid without this I will dream of him again tonight. Imagining the happiness my body could both receive and give,” she whimpered, her body aching with desire.  
“Use only cords of silk. Deny yourself other pleasures in food or wine as penitence.”  
“As you wish it.”

His prayer came next and he recited it from writ, words he had sworn to because he was the eldest and his life was not his own. They recited freely from his mouth though his hands fisted in the heavy robes he had not asked for; the prison he wore each day.  
_Amen_ couldn’t come soon enough.  
“Your sins are forgiven, go in peace,” he reassured her before she left.

His eyes were heavy and his shoulders weighted down with pain, but when he finally looked up he saw a small envelope left on her chair.

He moved much faster than the draping clothes would normally allow him, to retrieve the note left behind before the next confession. Unwilling to have it be found he walked it quickly to his private chambers and locked the door behind him.

The sun bathed the room in glorious shades of gold as he held the small, folded and sealed note in the palm of his hand. There was something much more than paper inside it as it felt weighty in his hands while his finger traced the edge. The seal was a white wax that bore no distinguishable mark but a pair of red lips had been pushed into the paper just above it, staining the parchment beautifully.

He sat at his writing desk, nervously tapping the edges as the note haunted him. While he wasn’t sure of what the note said, he knew that opening it would forever alter the course of denial he had set himself upon.

But not opening it was a fate worse than death; _regret_.

He opened the letter and read it.

_**If the flame that consumes your eyes as it does mine, burns for me come to me tonight.** _

_**F** _

There was also cellar door key and a small ink-blotted, hand-drawn and annotated map folded into the letter.

**- <>-**

The night was heavy and dark, the house was still and quiet. His footsteps were light and he carried no explanation to explain his presence there if he were to be found. He carried no lamp and his eyes strained to follow the shadows and thin shreds of light the moon reluctantly offered. Her note and map were committed to both his mind and ash as he made his way through the noble house.

He stopped at the room she had marked and as she had promised on the map, the light was coming out from beneath the heavy oak door. She was awake behind it, waiting for him. He steeled his racing chest as his fingers ran over the delicate fabric she had tied around the handle. It was silk, thin and gauzy, the finest of fabrics that felt like liquid between his fingers.

He pressed himself into the door, but he heard no movement inside. Holding his breath, he carefully opened the chamber door and slid in before his conscience got the better of him.

Felicity looked up from her stool where she sat in front of her dresser, idly brushing her silky blonde hair while she waited. A smile engulfed her face as a few trembled breaths shook her svelte shoulders.

He locked the door behind him and the clunk of it made her rise to her feet. She was dressed in the same silk fabric that was tied at the front of her door, only now Oliver could appreciate the true sheerness of it as the lamp burning behind her made it translucent with its playful light.

He watched her hips sway as she walked towards him. Her porcelain face was free from embellishment and her hair wasn’t adorned with a veil or clips of any sort. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips a slight pinch of matt red before she wet them gently, glossing them.

“You came,” she whispered, stopping just ahead of him and knotting her hands into each other.  
“You asked me to,” he replied, feeling the hard lines of her door poking into his back as he lifted off from it.  
“Is that all?” she spoke sadly, her eyes falling to the floor as her head bowed, “you only come because I ask it of you?”  
He moved closer, the air around them no match to hold him back. His fingers danced at the side of his leg, eager to touch her but fearful of the same.  
“No,” he answered, breathily and thin, “I wanted to.” The word felt like a betrayal to the man he had taken an oath to be, but he couldn’t deny himself, or the truth, a moment longer.

He watched a breath fall from her lips, _relief_ perhaps before a smile plucked up each corner and brightened her flawless face.

“You once told me you cared for me, is it still true?” she whispered, the words shaky and her eyes wide with anticipation, or perhaps fear.  
“It is,” he answered truthfully, averting his eyes for how much they would soon betray him, “but we cannot…”  
She took his lips with her own and while his body became paralysed by the feel of her warmth and softness, it was only a few seconds before his hand combed into her hair and his tongue traced her mouth. She opened for him and his every thought of _cannot_ dissipated to nothing as he became utterly enraptured in her lips.

They tasted better than any wine that had ever passed over his lips and they were far more succulent and decadent than any food, even that of kings, that he had ever been fortunate to taste. She was magnificent, warm, embracing; everything he knew she would be.

His tongue explored her mouth, feasting on the keening sighs that gave her pleasure away, as his other hand skimmed down her back, resting just on the cusp of her pert rear, nothing but gauzy fabric like air between them.

When their lips finally peeled back, desperate for air, Felicity wore a rosy shade of peach down her throat. He followed it with his eyes as it bled like a river down her centre and out towards her breasts, darkening her peaked nipples beneath the sheer nightgown.

“Don’t say ‘cannot’ tonight. Say it in the morning if you must, but not tonight.” She reached her trembling fingers to the laced ribbon at her neck. Carefully she tugged either end and the bow pulled apart. He felt his breathing deepen and rasp as she continued to undo the closure until the shoulders of the gown slid from her body.

It fell like a gust to the floor and sat like a cloud at her feet before Felicity stepped out from the midst of it. His eyes drunk her in completely; from her fine, unblemished skin to her seductive curves. Every inch of her was like a perfect dream; one he had given himself over to more times than he ought to admit.

His fingers ached to stretch out and to fondle the sweeping curves of her hips and tease over the wine-coloured peaks of her nipples, but he dare not – _he dare not_ – because he would most certainly lose himself in her, happily and eternally.

But he didn’t stop her when Felicity took his hand between her two much smaller ones and guided him to her breast. When his palm grazed her skin a silent sob shook from her body as though she had finally found a slither of reprieve from that aching desire that consumed her. His fingers spread out over her before her hands fell away; and with their eyes locked he gently massaged her soft mound.

The light dancing across her alabaster stomach enticed him closer and soon the laces on his tight, leather jerkin was scuffing her chest. His mouth fell to her neck and devoured its smooth slope.  
“I have loved you since the moment I saw you and I love you still,” he sobbed into her neck, freeing himself in the truth of those words.  
“And I have loved you just as long,” she answered, a single tear she shed melting into his skin as she kissed his cheek. “Stay with me tonight and marry me in the morning.”

He felt her lips smile against his cheek and for a moment he allowed himself that fleeting dream.  
“Felicity,” he sighed.  
She pulled away from him, folded her fingers into his and walked him wordlessly to her curtained bed.  
“Grant me my dreams Oliver, do not steal them away from me,” she warned coquettishly as she stopped with her thighs against the raised bed.

He kissed her hungrily while her fingers tore blindly, but deftly at the laces of his clothes. His heavy jacket fell heavy to the floor when she pushed it from his arms while he wrestled the shoes from his feet. With their lips still entangled and their hands eager to ravish each other, little care was given to his shirt and it tore through the centre. Unfazed, Oliver grappled it off his body, balled it up and threw it behind him before they topped onto her bed, the decorative tapestry of golden and burgundy hues embracing them in a puff of expelled air.

With his breaches gaping open and barely hanging around his hips, Oliver moved them both, carefully holding himself above her, while he studied her honey-tinted hair spilling like a halo around her.

Their lips barely touched two more times in the faintest of kisses before Oliver spoke again.  
“Are you sure?” he asked carefully.  
His fingers traced the sinewy caps of his chest, from the taut slopes of his shoulders down to the rippled valleys of his stomach with her lip snagged between her teeth and her blue eyes delirious with attraction.  
“I’m very sure,” she finally answered him, a nervous smile blushing her cheeks.

He kissed slowly down her body, relishing the way it moved under his attentions as effervescent giggles bubbled from her while his scruff tickled her silken skin. When his lips reached the thatch of sandy hair he inhaled, letting her heady scent dance salaciously across his senses.

The first time his tongue slipped between her folds, Felicity almost leapt off the bed as the fire simmering low in her belly erupted into an inferno of heat like none she’d ever encountered. His breath was like a blissful torment to her thighs as the roughness of his beard prickled her skin. She begged for the feeling though, hoping in her silent moans that he would leave her skin chaffed so that for a few days after tonight she could remember him, remember _this_.

Her toes twisted in the bed and her back arched, making her body like a snowy mountain his fingers couldn’t help but touch. His tongue moved slowly, slicing between her folds with the tip before lapping the broad and flat centre of her entire length.

As she whimpered and keened, delicately animating the dim air that surrounded them, Oliver teased her clit with quick circles before he sucked her nub between his lips. His largest finger skirted her entrance until it was well coated in her slick arousal before he slid it inside her tight walls. Her shoulders sobbed forward as her head thrashed against the decorative pillows. The pleasure of his finger moving inside her, stroking her walls and stretching her most intimate, had Felicity reciting his name in hot, wet breaths into the back of her palm as a tingling sensation burned across her core.

Letting go of every fallacy she had been taught and any imagined piety in denial, Felicity climaxed with her secret lover between her legs and her proclamation of love for him across her lips.

As he sat up on his heels, her feet begin to push his pants down with her nails scraping into the fleshy parts of his thighs. Despite the sensation making him wince, he didn’t stop her because the pain made him feel alive and he took comfort in knowing not a moment of that night was a dream.

He eased a second finger inside her and the sensation was so intensely pleasurable that for a brief moment Felicity thought she might come again. But her body soon settled before he began moving his digits inside her, teasing and stroking, stretching and thrusting.

Her walls were dripping and sleek and when his fingers returned they were covered in her elixir. As one hand teased her clit with tight loops, Oliver shuffled his pants down and coated his throbbing shaft in her. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, his erection pulled the skin taut as veins twisted like vines down the shaft. His hands were massive against his, but even they looked smaller as he spread her wetness over his length. A curious finger touched his tip as a smile took her lips before she lay back down, her body glowing with hedonism.

When he entered her the sharp stretching made her eyes screw shut as she let out a breathless moan. Her tightly scrunched eyes softened when Oliver leaned down and kissed each one tenderly while he stilled himself less than half a length inside her.  
“I can stop,” he whispered, seeing the pain painted across her porcelain features.  
“Please don’t, I want this,” her fingers scooped around his ears and through the lengths of his hair. “I want you. I want to be yours and you to be mine.”  
He knew that going slow would only prolong her discomfort but his heart grew heavy and uncertain he could bear to see any sudden pain shock her azure eyes.  
She spoke as though she could read his thoughts. “Do it quick,” she urged with her hands anchored at his shoulders, “have me feel it so I know that it’s real, that you’re real.”  
He bowed his head and kissed her pillowed lips as though they were the petals of a flower. “I am real. You are real,” he whispered, his eyes devouring hers. “This is real.”  
He thrust deep into her and caught her cry with his mouth, swallowing it so it never left the room.

The sting was formidable but fleeting and as her eyes flung open again, only the slightest of aches remained.  
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice trembled and his eyes heavy, before his lips stole a single tear from her cheek.  
“Yes, with you, I am.”

Her tightness gripped him and, as he gently moved in and out, he was soon on the edge of his own climax. He wanted to stay in her comfort; to spill himself inside her and claim her as no man ever had before. But he knew her sin would be looked on as greater than his own and he couldn’t stand the thought of her being whisked away from him to a convent when it was discovered.

Soon his thighs ached and his breathing was ragged and stuttered as their bodies share heat and wet and warmth against each other. Misted in sweat and with his hair glued to his face, he studied her beneath him, she was perfect; he had always known that.

Seconds before he found his release, Oliver pulled out and spilled himself onto the woven blanket. He strangled his cock with his fist and pumped it furiously as he dropped his mouth to her sex once more and pushed his flailing tongue inside her.

She came a second time, breathless and shaking around him and when he came up his lips were saturated in her. Stealing a kiss, she tastes herself and smiles against his mouth.  
“Marry me tomorrow in my dreams?” she whispered, nestling her nose against his.  
He caught his breath and kissed a trail up her neck. “Run away with me?” he sighed as he reached her ear. Felicity pulled back to look at him, her smile tinted with confusion, so he said it again, clearer and looking in her eyes. “Run away with me.”

“You would leave? Your family, your cloak, your oath, you would leave it all?” she uttered, her eyes begging for him not to toy with her heart.  
“For you? Yes,” he answered, the weight lifting from his shoulders an instant relief. “It was never mine to want, I want for only you.”  
She kissed him feverishly a dozen times as she held his head between her hands. “When?”  
“Soon, I’ll make the arrangements,” he promised before he pulled her naked body tight against his. Brushing her hair back from her cheeks he sought out her eyes. “Say you’ll come. I can’t promise you wealth or much more than my arms for warmth, but everything I get I will give to you.”  
Tears flourished in the corners of her eyes. “If I have you, then I’ll want for nothing else.”  
“Leave with me?” he asked a third time, slow and soft.  
She answered just as softly. “Yes.”

 _Yes_.

 

**- <The End>-**

**Author's Note:**

> No confessionals were harmed in the making of this, but it sure got hot in there...
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you think :/  
> Twitter/Tumblr @someonesaidcake


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